Soul Mates Never Die
by gingerfishlover280
Summary: Based off of one of the explanations of the game. What if the monsters were really people and animals? How could Valtiel and The Red Pyramid Thing exist? Can creatures who don't exist feel love. Slash. VAlXPH


Disclaimer: I do not own Valtiel and Pyramid Head or Silent Hill. This is not cannon, it never happened. This is a work of fiction. Mehr.

Inspired by "Sleeping With Ghosts" - Placebo

"Soul Mates Never Die"

I allow my head to hit the soiled tile of the hospital. Tears roll into my mouth and there is that faint taste of blood that always disturbs my slumber. The Executioner was stalking somewhere near, I could sense him. Ever since that night we spent together, hours between the bed sheets, it feels like I'm forever with him, like our souls have intertwined as well as our fingers. I don't know why we decided to share a bed that night, but it made me slowly realize that I absolutely detest him.

I can't be devoted to something that doesn't exist, and if I'm only a fabrication, I can't love. I came across this knowledge when I was trudging through the hallway one night. My boot unexpectedly hit something hard and it skittered across the floor, making me shriek and twitch in alarm. I shakily walked towards the scarlet notebook and picked it up before wiping the layer of dust from the front cover. It was Father Vincent's collection of accounts from Harry, James, and Heather. I opened it cautiously as I began to scan their notes, each one filling me with dread like I'd never felt before.

'I was in the library when I found a book on subconscious projection. I think this is all in my head. I just want my dear Cheryl back.' Harry's handwriting. I gulp and turn a few more pages to James's tale.

'Laura can't see the monsters or Maria. Eddie only sees people laughing at him, and he can't see Pyramid Head. Angela sees fire. This can't be real.' I sucked in air and skimmed for Heather's diary.

'Vincent was shocked when I told them they looked like monsters to me. I think I'm really killing humans.'

My mouth went dry and my heart sped up, suddenly everything made sense. They weren't killing monsters, but dogs and humans that we could only see as monsters, but as I kept reading, I found that there was nothing in the physical world to represent myself or the Red Pyramid Thing. We were figments of their imagination, just like ghosts or apparitions, but why did we exist now that they're gone? And why do we subsist together if we came from two different people? It had to be the fault of Alessa. She began to envision us all together in her hellish world of blood and lust; and then my feelings for him arose as she began to watch us, that sick little girl. It made me nauseous and miserable, not a familiar sensation for an angel.

Touching on that, I can't even be this being they think I am. If there's no genuine god, there are no seraphim. I could never be some shining being with golden wings or even a fiend with ominous bat wings. I'm just an idea, much like an imaginary friend. I hear the faint screeching clatter of my lover from afar, but he's nearing me. I wonder how long he's been looking for me, wanting to fill his never ending desire for a quick fuck or joyride. He's probably already had two or three nurses by now, but the craving never ceases for him.

The screeching gets louder and I grit my teeth. I just want to wallow in my own misfortune. Want to stop breathing or rip out my own heart. It burns in my chest as I slump to the ground again, trying to ignore the sounds of his Great Knife. I choke out sobs and a pathetic cry when he stops above me and drops his blade. I kick and screech as he pulls on my legs, trying to get me to part them. His gloved hand races up my thigh and I can't help but buck into him before tearing away angrily. My head twitches when he starts tugging on my robe before I boot his helmet. He stumbles back and I sink into the wall as far as I can. He pulls off his helmet, his face looking like mine, only his is crimson and he only has one mouth. He lifts the mask and curses me, roaring at me for not giving him what he wants.

What about what I want? Was a warm embrace here and there too much to ask for? How about he stopped leaving all the time after we made love? My mind wanders then, because Pyramid Head doesn't make love, he only fucks. My breath catches in my throat when he stands and grabs me before pushing me into the wall and hiking my robe up. The wind is knocked out of me, but it's the least of my problems when his long black tongue trails up my spine. He hears me weep and when he stops I shriek in fear and my head twitches.

His arms suddenly enfold around me and drag me down. I plunge into his lap and thrash about to get away. I strike and beat him but he does nothing. My screeching gets louder and I see a nurse hastily head in the other direction. Eventually I run out of vigor and slump against him. I feel so helpless as I wait for him to ravish me, but it never comes.

He lets his head collapse onto my shoulder and he tenderly nuzzles my neck. I'm too surprised to do anything, so I just let it happen. I gaze at a tear that fell from under my mask and landed on his arm. His breath is soft and temperate against my neck and for once I don't feel like a plaything anymore. I feel wanted, needed, maybe even loved.

But what is love between two figments of the mind? Can false entities feel passion? No one can tell me that the sick sensation I usually feel in my stomach isn't valid. When it feels like I've just swallowed a steel knife, it can't be false. He pulls me closer now and I can sense his heart against my back, or maybe it's just in my head. His tongue sneaks out from beneath his mask and he tickles my cheek. I let out a nervous laugh before yanking on it gently, and when it retracts I can see the mischievous grin that has played upon his features. My mind began to race then as I let my head drop back onto his chest. If we weren't tangible, and we were just Alessa's imaginings, what would happen if she just stopped believing in us? What if she abandoned us and ran away from her nightmare? If she saw a psychiatrist who could hinder her lunacy, would we cease to exist? Would we wander in Limbo for eternity, or would we just vanish?

A whimper escapes me and he tilts my head up so I'm looking at his featureless face. He tilts his head in bewilderment, so I tell him all that I've read and discovered. He listens quietly, his face void of any emotion or feelings of woe. When I'm done I'm in hysterics as sobs rip through my body. He grabs me up again and holds me close and I ask him again what would happen if we just perished or disappeared. He stared up at the ceiling and pulled me closer as he breathed the most beautiful sentence I'd ever hear.

"Soul mates never die."


End file.
